The Simple Life and Redemption of Hu Zhimou

This is a record of an interview with Hu Zhimou, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his time as a prison guard in the hells. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fajing, on April 9, 2022.

Hu Zhimou speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Hu Zhimou. Along with fifty-nine other prison guards, I have finally arrived at the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. My heart is filled with an endless, overflowing sense of gratitude that words can barely capture. I have knelt before Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su in deep, tearful appreciation. If it were not for the immense compassion of Practitioner Su, who reached out to guide us to the Western Land today, we would likely never have had the opportunity to return to our true home. I cherish this moment with every fibre of my being, feeling the warmth of the light that has finally washed away the cold darkness of my past.

Greetings to everyone. Although you do not know me, I know all of you. I have often heard Practitioner Su mention the names of the fourfold assembly during his profound Dharma talks. Over time, I have come to know you, even though you have never seen me. I have never had the chance to meet you in person, as we existed in different realms—one of the living, and one of the dead. It is a strange and beautiful thing to finally be able to speak to you from this place of eternal peace.

A Humble Beginning in Anhui

Let me share my story with you. I was born in Anhui, China, into a very ordinary, modest family. Before I reached the age of forty, both of my parents were still with us, and I had three younger brothers. We were a family of six, living a life defined by simplicity and quiet endurance. Do not be fooled by my name, which might sound like it implies great intelligence or cunning. In truth, I was quite simple-minded, a straightforward and honest man who followed the rules of life as best as I could.

My father was a teacher, a man of great intellect, but I did not inherit his sharp mind. Whenever a book was placed in front of me, it acted like a powerful sedative; I would immediately drift off to sleep. It happened every single time, without fail. I simply could not study, no matter how much I desired to please my father. I once felt that I had let him down, that I had caused him to lose face in front of others. I tried so hard to stay awake, to force the knowledge into my mind. I would stand barefoot on sharp, jagged stones while reading, or stand out in the freezing snow, or even soak my body in ice water to shock myself into alertness. No matter what method I tried, it was useless. The words on the page refused to recognise me, and I could not recognise them. It was as if a veil had been drawn between my mind and the written word.

Finding Purpose in Simplicity

People used to laugh at me, calling me useless or a simpleton. I would just scratch my head, smile, and say, 'When Heaven closes a door, it must be opening a window somewhere else. Do not worry about me. As long as I am alive in this world, I must have some purpose.' That was my philosophy. I never felt bitter about my lack of academic success because I believed that every life has its own unique path.

The greatest strength of my life was my optimism. No matter how terrible a situation seemed, in my eyes, it was never truly bad. I always spoke words of kindness, and I made it a point to never let a harsh word pass my lips. My heart was always positive, and I rarely held onto negative emotions. Even when they arose, I could quickly change my thoughts and return to a state of peace. I was right—Heaven did not give me a brain for books, but it gave me a sturdy, tall frame and a booming voice. I was a big man, and when I spoke, my voice resonated clearly, carrying a warmth that people seemed to appreciate.

I held many jobs, and employers loved to hire me because I was diligent, strong, and loud. Whether it was moving heavy goods or calling out to customers, I could do it all with a smile. Plus, I always wore a genuine expression of joy, which made me quite popular among the townspeople. They knew that if Hu Zhimou was on the job, it would be done with honesty and a good heart.

The Philosophy of Giving

In truth, I never made much money, but that was never my goal. Many people were curious: our family was not wealthy, so why did I not care about money? This stems from the upbringing I received from my father. Although I did not learn much from books, I learned a profound perspective on life from him. My father did not care for wealth, fame, or status, and neither did I. We did not need to pursue unnecessary things; instead, we wanted to use our strength to help others. My father was a man of great character. After he became a teacher, he taught for free. He gathered poor students who could not afford schooling and taught them in public spaces near our home, giving them a chance to learn. I shared his view: as long as life is comfortable, there is no need for luxury. We did not need high incomes, but we were willing to contribute our efforts to society.

When I was twenty-three, through a unique set of Causal Conditions, I opened a cloth shop. It had belonged to a friend of my father who had no family. Before he passed away from illness, my father had cared for him for a long time, and so he entrusted the shop to my father, believing he would know how to keep it running. My father was already elderly and lacked the energy, so he passed it to me. I had no business acumen. I was too honest to be a merchant. My neighbours had told me since I was a child, 'Zhimou, you can do any job, but never go into business or invest, because you will surely be cheated and lose everything.' I would laugh at their warnings. I understood their logic, but I always looked at the bright side. I did not feel the need to plan too much; I just wanted to walk each step of my life firmly, freely, and happily, without counting what I gained or lost.

The Honest Merchant

When they heard I had opened the shop, they were all worried. They came every day to teach me how to make more money or how to avoid being scammed. I knew they meant well, and I was grateful, but my mind simply did not work that way. I felt that simple was better. I ran the shop honestly, earning a small, fair profit. Because my fabrics were of high quality and my prices were just, people felt they were getting a bargain. Business flourished, not because I was a clever salesman, but because I was a fair one. I did not need the money, and my parents did not want it either. So, I saved every month. Once I had enough, I built a clinic in town and hired a doctor to provide free medical care. At that time, our town had no proper place for treatment; people had to travel to the next city. I did not hesitate to build it, hoping to help my fellow townspeople. Later, I used the fabric from my shop to make children's clothes. Every year, I sent large shipments to impoverished areas and orphanages so those children could have something new to wear. Every day, I asked myself, 'What else can I do?' As long as it was within my power, I was willing to do it.

A Life of Service and Final Deliverance

Many people saw my kind and honest nature and rushed to introduce their daughters to me. I eventually had to post a notice outside my shop asking people to stop. In my view, marriage was not a necessity; it was not the most important thing in life. No matter how beautiful the women were, my heart remained unmoved. After a few attempts, people realised I was sincere about not wanting to marry, and they finally left me in peace. My life was simple. I lived every day with positivity and optimism. I lived for sixty-one years in that world. I found joy in helping others, not in the indulgence of physical desires. Such a life is exceptionally happy, but time passes quickly.

After I passed away, my spirit entered the hells to serve as a prison guard. It was a dark and heavy existence, a stark contrast to the simple joy I had known in life. But even in that darkness, there was a glimmer of hope. About six years ago, I began to hear Practitioner Su’s Dharma talks. Every word touched my heart deeply, piercing through the gloom of the hells. I am so grateful to Practitioner Su for his compassion in saving beings in this world, giving so many the opportunity for rebirth in the Western Pure Land. Today, we sixty prison guards have also been guided by Practitioner Su, and only then did we have the chance to arrive at the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am finally home. Namo Amituofo.

Hu Zhimou"